


Comfortably Numb

by DemonBanisher



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Depression, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, The Mage (Simon Snow) is an Asshole, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonBanisher/pseuds/DemonBanisher
Summary: It's been months since Simon and Baz have been back from their adventure in the States. Things seem to be going well but an accident while cooking dinner will bring everything into the light.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 63





	Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first fic all feedback is welcome! I just love these boys so much!

Simon and Baz were in the kitchen cooking dinner. It was a staple activity if they ever had time together. Although, it was mostly Baz bossing and Simon following orders. For someone who loved to eat, Simon’s cooking abilities were surprisingly lacking. Baz had learned early on that it was better to keep Simon away from stove. He usually had him focus on the prep work and leave the actual cooking to him. Maybe it was all those years working with a sword, but Simon was actually incredibly agile with a knife. 

“Ah fuck,” Baz heard Simon say from behind him. The voice came out in a complete monotone and Baz figured some of their vegetables must have gone mouldy earlier than he’d expected. He was shocked when he turned around to see Simon still holding the knife in one hand with blood running down his opposite hand.

“Holy shit, Snow.” He must have cut himself really badly, there was blood everywhere. Down his hand, all over the food and seeping into the cutting board leaving a stain that briefly reminded Baz of pomegranate juice. Baz felt his nostrils flare and his stomach growl at the scent of blood, but his hunger was a distant second to his concern for Simon. “Give me a second, let me grab my wand,” Baz added as he hurried quickly around the corner and into their bedroom to retrieve the wand from his nightstand. He came back into the kitchen to find Simon hadn’t moved an inch. Standing there still holding the knife aloft one would think that he had just murdered some small animal. It was a scene Baz wished he was more unfamiliar with. He walked closer, “Simon? Simon give me your hand.” The stench of blood was stronger now and Baz could feel his fangs yearning to pop free. He was startled when Simon turned abruptly away from him mumbling something under his breath. 

“What was that?” Baz asked.

“I… I just want to feel for a second,” his voice came out quiet and exhausted. Surely this wasn’t the same brave, cocky Simon Snow Baz had fallen in love with. “Can you not fix it… just not yet.” He wouldn’t even turn to look at Baz as he pleaded with him.

Baz’s mind was running a million places at once. Not fix it? Why would he not want him to do that?

“Simon,” Baz said reaching to touch Simon’s shoulder. He flinched abruptly and Baz tried desperately to ignore the pang that set off in his heart. Once his touch had settled Simon, not startled him. Baz noticed as he turned Simon around that when he’d flinched he’d managed to accidentally cut his other arm again. “Simon,” Baz whispered almost inaudibly as he looked at the blood seeping into the old Watford sweater he had on. He reached for his hand with the knife and gently removed it from Simon’s grasp. He wasn’t quite sure if Simon was even aware that he was no longer holding something. Baz closed his eyes briefly, he bloodlust was threatening to overpower him. Baz knew he wouldn’t hurt Simon, but he still wanted to get him cleaned up quickly and then they could deal with whatever had put him in this trance. 

“If you want to destroy my sweater!” Baz cast raising his wand at Simon. Their trip to the States a few months ago had helped him broaden his spell-casting repertoire even if they weren’t as effective back home. Simon’s sweater immediately shredded and fell off his body. Baz knew he could fix it later, but Simon didn’t seem to care that his favourite sweater had just been destroyed. Baz would have sworn, if he hadn’t been so shocked at Simon’s appearance. There were bruises, cuts and burns all over Simon’s arms. All over his Simon’s arms. Instinctively Baz went to cast a healing charm, all he’d ever wanted to do for Simon was to take the pain away, but Simon looked up to at him again with these blue eyes and Baz realized sometimes the best thing we can do is to help someone forget about the pain for a little while.

Baz walked down the hall to the bathroom and opened up the cabinet pulling out gauze, band-aids and antiseptic lotion, all things they wouldn’t have had only a few months ago. But that trip to the U.S. had also made them wary of their own magical abilities. Baz realized he had bought these things “just in case.” Just in case of what? The Humdrum was gone, although as Baz was slowly realizing it had taken more of Simon with it then he’d thought. They had nothing to fear, except maybe the odd homophobic asshole, so why were they still acting like they were at war? Baz remembered his father then, the way the old families had always sized him up as a soldier since birth. He had been training since he was a child, always looking for a danger, looking for something to fight, that kind of wiring isn’t something that goes away just because you killed the big bad. He knew Simon had been raised the same way, that The Mage always demanded the most from him at all times. He’d watched him run into battle over and over again, almost with a subtle sigh of “here we go again.” He was a fighter. Baz knew it was what he had to do to survive. Not only in the world of magic but among the Normals too. The homes The Mage left him in were awful, Simon was always coming back to school fifteen pounds lighter and with some new scar to add to his collection. Their whole lives they had just been pawns on a bigger chess board. But they never thought they could both win. Two pieces that weren’t meant to fit together. Two boys that weren’t meant to have survived. What use is planning a future if you don’t think you’ll live love enough to see it? He closed the medicine cabinet and was able to manage a brief smile at the memory of Snow thinking he couldn’t see himself in a mirror. 

Back in the living room, Simon was sitting on the couch looking down at his arm. Baz used a wet facecloth he’d brought with him to clean the blood off his arm and hand before applying the antiseptic and gently wrapping the whole thing up in gauze. The antiseptic had a sharp medicine smell that masked that of the blood. Baz was grateful for small miracles. He kept his eyes on Simon anytime he didn’t need them to complete what he was doing. But Simon wasn’t looking back at him and every second he didn’t Baz could feel his heart shatter into pieces and there was no incantation to fix a broken heart. 

“Honey, Simon, please look at me.” Baz said resting his arm on Simon’s leg. 

“I’m so sorry Baz, sometimes I just get so messed up inside,” he said suddenly showing the first signs that he was aware of his own existence. He looked anxiously at his arms and tried desperately to find some position that covered up as much of the damage as possible. “I never meant for you to see me like this.”

How could he think that he wouldn’t want to see him like this? Of course, in an ideal world he would never have to feel that way, but if he had to feel this way you could be sure as hell that Baz would want to be by his side. Baz had said he’d cross any line for Simon and he meant it. If Simon asked, Baz would walk to hell and back just to bring him some peace. But Baz knew this wasn’t about him right now, and he was trying to think of the right words to say that he hoped would make everything better. 

“I want all of you Simon Snow,” he said twisted himself into a better seated position so he could grab Simon’s hands being careful to not brush against his fresh wounds. “If you’re in a battle I will be by your side always, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what we’re fighting.”

“I ruined dinner,” Simon said crying quietly. “It’s one of the only good things I have left and I ruined it.”

“Hush, I already burnt the chicken anyways it would have been a mess.” Baz hoped that would make him smile, but he was too far gone already. So instead, he helped Simon to his feet and carefully led him into the bedroom. He helped Simon into fresh pyjamas and got him into bed. Baz got changed himself and pulled the covers over them as he wrapped himself around Simon leaving the remains of their spoiled dinner to sour in the kitchen. 

It was a while before Simon’s tears subsided and Baz heard his breathing slow. In the dark Baz ran his eyes over his various wounds. Some looked like they were weeks or maybe months old. Had it really been so long since they’d been with each other that Baz hadn’t been able to notice? When was the last time he’d seen Simon with his shirt off or at the very least without a sweater on? He knew Simon had been complaining about being cold lately, but Baz was always cold, so he had trusted him blindly. Baz thought about how empty Simon must be feeling to be able to scar himself so deeply and wondered how he couldn’t have seen it earlier or was it that Simon Snow was still just as good at playing a part? He wrapped his arms tighter around Simon and noticed how pronounced his ribcage was. He must not have been eating either. In fact, Baz couldn’t think of the last time he’d seen Simon eating unless it was something that he had made. Simon was up before him almost every morning and not once had Baz come out to him eating even a bowl of cereal or an orange. Had Baz been so wrapped up in his own pain that he couldn’t see Simon’s? Guilt racked him all night and he desperately needed to hunt but Simon seemed so safe and secure holding onto Baz’s arm like he did that fateful night so long ago that he didn’t dare think of moving. Finally, after hours of endless questions haunting him Baz drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, Baz rolled over and reached out for Simon only to find cold sheets. Shit, how long had he been gone for? He launched himself out of bed and into the kitchen surprised to find the remnants of last night’s dinner had been tidied and put away. The only reminder that anything had happened was a small red stain left on the cutting board. It was like Simon had tried to wipe away any memory of what had happened. Glancing into the living room, Baz noticed his torn Watford sweater was missing too. 

“Morning,” Simon said giving Baz a start as he turned to see him sitting at the breakfast bar. No food or drink in front of him Baz noticed. 

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Something resembling fear or a distasteful memory flashed quickly across Simon’s eyes, but not quickly enough for Baz to not notice it. “Yeah, you?”

“Okay, I’ll need to go out and hunt soon.”

“Oh for sure, don’t you have class today too? You should hurry or you’re going to be late.”

“Actually, I was thinking I might take the day off. Maybe we could spend some time together?”

Simon looked down at the countertop, lazily tracing his finger over the marks in the stone. There would have been a time when he would have leaped into Baz’s arms at this message. He used to practically cling to Baz’s leg when he went for school. Baz hated that he couldn’t remember when that stopped. Sometimes the people around us change so slowly we don’t notice. It’s like that lesson about the frog. If you put it in a pot of boiling water and slowly turn the temperature up it won’t notice the change until it is too late. Baz hoped it wasn’t too late. 

“Look, Simon…”

“I know, I know, I was really messed up and that has got to be hard for you to see me that way. I don’t know what came over me, I swear it was just one bad day. Can we forget about it, okay?” There again were those pleading blue eyes.

“Simon, I saw your arms. They’re covered in scars and bruises some of which look old and you’ve lost weight. I know you’re lying about getting a goodnights sleep. Why can’t you talk to me? I’m here, I know you’ve had a rough past and we’ve tried to put everything behind us but maybe that’s not the right thing to do. I love you and all that matters to me is that you are okay. Snow, you’re hurting yourself, but I promise you don’t have to fight anymore.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.” Simon continued to stare down at the counter. Baz walked around the island and tipped Simon’s head up until he was looking into his eyes. “Simon, you could never scare me away. I meant what I said last night, I want to fight with you. Please, you gotta let me try and understand.”

Simon slipped out of Baz’s gentle grip and turned his eyes back down to the counter. “Okay, but you should probably go out and hunt first.”

Baz nodded, turning back to their bedroom to get changed. If he thought he could have made it a couple hours he would have said no. But he wanted to be there completely for Simon, this was the best way. “I’ll make it quick I promise. Please promise me you’ll try to eat something too?”

Simon nodded again. God, all those years he wanted Snow to be quiet, he never would have asked for this. He changed quickly and threw on his coat giving Simon a quick kiss before he was out the door. He glanced back quickly before leaving. His hero looked dejected and tired. Fuck, prophecies he thought. Fuck using children as pawns. Fuck bloody wars. And with that he was out the door. 

When Baz opened the door, he could see that Simon was no longer at the breakfast bar. Good, maybe he took Baz’s request and got himself something to eat. Baz barely had time to finish that thought before Simon was on him pressing against the closing door. Simon’s warm mouth felt good on Baz’s cold lips and he could feel the blood in his system now rushing to his cheeks. How long had it been since Snow had kissed him like this? Warm, hot… hungry. Instinctively, Baz ran his hand through Simon’s hair as Simon began to kiss his cheek and then down his neck. Simon snarled and Baz tried not to growl, but old habits die hard. 

“Snow…” he managed to breathe. Hoping that his use of Simon’s despised nickname would break down some of the lust that was hanging heavy in the air. He wanted him. God, he couldn’t begin to describe how badly he wanted him. But not like this, not when he knew Simon wasn’t okay.

“Mhmm,” Simon mumbled as he began to kiss along Baz’s collarbone using his hands to take off his jacket damp from that morning’s rainfall. Simon began to unbutton Baz’s shirt kissing each new stretch of exposed skin moving his mouth lower and lower and lower. Baz tried miserably to suppress a moan feeling his body arch into Simon’s and away from the door.   
“Snow… stop… we shouldn’t,” he gasped in between desperate breathes.

“Shh, I just want to feel something,” Simon mumbled into Baz’s chest. And there it was again. That line from last night. It snapped Baz back to reality and he quickly pushed Simon away, maybe a little too hard. He regretted it the second he saw the hurt look on Simon’s face. He looked like he might cry again. Baz took a step closer to him and reached out his hand. When that didn’t work, he leaned in and kissed Simon passionately, intertwining their fingers, and after pulling out of the kiss he practically dragged Simon over to a seat at the kitchen table taking his seat opposite of him. He didn’t like this feeling. It made it feel too much like they were on opposing sides, two opposites to a chess board. He dragged his chair closer to Simon.

“Simon don’t think that I don’t want. I mean damn, I really do,” he did. This conversation was going to be a lot harder with the taste of Simon on his lips. “But we need to talk about last night. You just want to feel? You said the same thing yesterday.”

Simon glanced down at the table. “I guess I’ve just been feeling comfortably numb.” He smiled knowing Baz’s newfound love of rock. 

Baz smiled gently back but didn’t say anything. He waited for Simon to fill the space. 

“I guess, I just got so used to saving everyone that I got used to the pain. I know it sounds awful but the blood, the causalities, and injuries all happened so often it became part of my new normal. And with the Humdrum gone, and me well, being Normal, I slowly realized I didn’t have anyone to save anymore. The pain in my life was gone. I didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t saving or fixing someone. As time went on, I guess I just slowly started feeling more and more.” He turned his gaze to his lap now, as if he didn’t want Baz to hear this next part. “You were gone one day and I don’t know what happened but I just found myself in the kitchen with my arm over the open flame. I’d been slipping for a while. Nightmares and awful thoughts keeping me awake. I wasn’t hungry anymore and was way beyond tired. The fire… it… it felt good. It reminded me that I was still alive somehow. So, I kept doing it and burning turned to bruising and cutting. It just became the only thing that seemed worth doing. I did look it up once. Those episodes, like what happened last night, they happen sometimes. They’re something called dissociative episodes. It’s like one second I’m here in this world and everything is real and then all the sudden I feel like I’m in a dream or a foggy memory. It’s hard to explain but everything just feels… fake. I’m so sorry Baz, I never wanted to scare you. I meant what I said last night, I never meant for you to see me like this. I just…” he stops, sounding exhausted. Baz understands, sometimes there is no words for when things get this bad, when your head gets so muddled.

“I know, that night in the woods with the two of us. We never really talked about it, but I was ready to end it all. You brought everything back into focus for me Simon. You did. Look at me, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You save me every day in a million ways without you even knowing it. How else would I survive my family and everyone who sees me as a monster? You see me Simon. And when I look at you, I don’t see the chosen one or the saviour. I see Simon Snow, my boyfriend, my first and only love. You are my heart Simon and it kills me that they saw your good and used it as a weapon. We will get through this together. I promise. But I need you to promise to never lie to me again? I know recovery isn’t a straight line, but I will never make you feel guilty about what you have done, about what you do, as long as you always tell me truth. I’m so sorry I didn’t see earlier Simon, but I promise I will be there for every nightmare, every bad day, every break down.” He took his hands. “You are my everything Simon Snow.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Simon’s and somehow in that silence everything else that needed to be said was said. 

They held each other in that gentle embrace for some time before making breakfast. Baz watched to make sure that Simon ate every last bite. They curled up on the couch and watched old cheesy movies and later they made love. It was hot and heavy, but it was also gentle and kind. Baz took time to kiss every one of Simon’s scars and Simon never once pulled away from Baz’s soft touch. When they’d finished, they lay curled up in each other’s arms, open, naked, and raw. Baz couldn’t see the future, but he knew that right now they were both alive. Simon didn’t know what tomorrow held, but he knew from that first time he shared his magic with Baz they had something. And as he drifted off to his first peaceful sleep in months, he thought about the way that things were always better with Baz, and he realized that they always would be.


End file.
